A Chat with Gwen Poole
by PureSmoulder
Summary: Gwen Poole is invited to a strange place, to speak with a strange man.


Should I set it in a coffee shop? That's always a classic. But then again, I don't even like coffee. I'm also not too sure how this whole meta-narrative works. If I want to make a believable setting, I should go with something I'm very familiar with…

"Knock knock!"

That'd be her then. I hurriedly got up from my bed and opened my bedroom door.

A petite teenage girl stood before me, dressed in garish pink and white spandex. Her eyes shined blue like the afternoon sky, and her blonde hair was arranged in a neat bobcut, accentuated with dip dyed p

"Did you seriously just google 'hair dyes on ends' to figure out how to describe me?", the girl scoffed.

"Look, I'm not a good writer alright! And I hate doing character descriptions. Sue me."

"Ugh. And I suppose you're the writer who thought up this genius idea for a fanfic.", she snorted, "Ooh, look Gwenpool, that's me by the way, is a character that…Oi don't insert lines into my dialogue!"

"It's really awkward calling you 'the girl'. I just wanted to get the name exposition out of the way before I add more dialogue for you. But please, continue criticising my amateur writing."

"Thank you, I will." Gwenpool huffed.

"You think just because I'm a character who breaks the fourth wall, you can just write a lazy fanfic about me and you appearing in your world, when you control everything just by typing words into a laptop at 1.48am. Why are you even up that late?"

"Okay, look, that's not what I'm trying to do here."

Gwenpool raised an eyebrow.

"Okay, fine. Maybe that is what I was trying to do. But I wasn't going to make myself out to be some Gary Stu who falls into the Marvel Universe and meets you and we get in hijinks and fall in love. That's just cringey and sad, by any standards. Really, all I wanted to do was just talk to you. Kind of implied in the title, isn't it?"

Gwenpool stood there, quiet. She wasn't quite sure what to make of it. She knew that her future self had told her about how she would live on forever in many mediums, fanfiction being one of them, but this was certainly not what she expected.

"Okay, I doubt anyone reading this wants to imagine us talking between a door frame. Let's sit down somewhere nice."

In a flash, Gwenpool found herself seated in a cosy leather armchair, and opposite her, she saw me seated in a similar armchair, pouring out jasmine green tea into two little teacups. I offered a cup to her.

"Alright, uhh, Mr. Writer, so what did you want to talk about?"

I sighed.

"Well, I'd just finished binging your entire run. All 25 issues of (the original) Unbelievable Gwenpool. And, well, your character just got to me. I thought it would just be a silly romp with a Rule 63 Deadpool. But then you went through that whole backstory arc, revealing the kind of life you led in your real world. Dropping out of high school. Friends all moving away. Working a deadass retail job. A bleak reflection of my reality."

"Well, I guess real life sucks no matter what Earth you're on." Gwen remarked, sipping from the teacup.

"And you were trying to become an established writer through fanfiction, but had trouble developing an idea all the way through. The way your father retorted, about how you couldn't even put in effort for something you cared about, that stung a lot."

Gwen was silent now. Why was this strange idiot telling her all this?

"I had a lot of things I wanted to say to you. I thought this would be a good way to convey it. But it's just not good enough. You're about as real to me as Doctor Doom is to you."

I could feel my heart fluttering. Was it sadness, or anticipatory cringe of remembering the decision to post this garbage online?

"I enjoy creating new worlds, escaping to them if need be. Writing is just the easiest way for me to do that, as I'm sure you can relate. But the fact still remains that I live in the real world. No magic pink portal is going to open and spring me to fantasy land. I'm stuck here and I loathe it."

"Say," Gwen interrupted, "isn't the room we're in a bit bare?"

"Oh, sorry, I forgot to give a quick description of the rest of the room. It's so hard keeping track of my thoughts and your thoughts, I barely can focus on maintaining the setting. It feels just like dming a session of Dungeons and Dragons. You have played that before, right? I remember you were really familiar with RPG tropes, and you were totally making DND references in that arc with Deadpool and Arcade."

"Oh well," Gwen explained, "I've never actually played DND, just RPG video games, but there's always been that niggling interest. I wanted to run a campaign someday…once I could find enough friends."

Gwen stared intensely at the teacup, as if a map to the Infinity Stones were contained within.

"You could try organising one in the Marvel universe. I'm sure Gary Gygax exists there too." I suggested.

"I could, but unless one of the official writers decide to add that to an issue of the upcoming West Coast Avengers, it isn't likely to ever happen."

"Tell you what, when West Coast Avengers comes out, and I get a good sense of the team dynamic, I'll write a fanfic of you guys playing DND. It's the least I can do for you, after all you've given me."

I set the teacup down.

"I'm miserable. I hate my life, and wish I could disappear everyday. Nothing feels lively, or exciting. Every day is a dull, boring drag. But at least for today, you made me smile reading your adventures, and I really just wanted to thank you for that."

"Thank you, Gwendolyn Poole. You're the best original character Marvel has made in years, and I hope you never fade into obscurity. Even decades later, after all your writers are long retired, and Marvel has rebooted their entire franchise twice again, some kid will find issue #8 of the Unbelievable Gwenpool tucked away in a dusty corner of a library, and spend a good hour or so reading about your adventures with a grin on their face."

I smile at her, tears streaking down my cheeks.

She smiles back.


End file.
